


The Sacrifices We Make

by lawofavgs



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawofavgs/pseuds/lawofavgs
Summary: On the eve of the Battle of Culloden, Jamie brings Claire to Craigh Na Dun, intent on sending her and their unborn child to the safety of the 20th century.If there's one thing they should know by now, it's that fate doesn't always conform to their wishes.





	1. Chapter 1

_I wished I were dead._

My senses slowly came back to me, one-by-one, in such a way that amplified the effect.

The feel of the cool, dewy grass beneath me.

The ambient sound of nature swirling around me (and the distinct lack of the buzzing sound I had come to associate with the Godforsaken stones).

The sunlight pressing against my eyelids, bright and insistent.

The smell of dirt mingling with the scents clinging to my dress – herbs and sweat.

The taste of the last kiss I would ever share with Jamie, his mouth combined with the salt from my tears creating a bittersweet mix.

It was over – we lost. All of our efforts, everything we had lost trying to stop the war - and then win it - was all for naught. It still ended with my husband dead and my heart and soul broken beyond repair. All that was left was the glimmer of life inside of me. The last part of Jamie. The result of him and I and our love for each other. An abstract concept right now, but it had to be enough.

Lord, let it be enough.

I couldn’t say how long I remained at the foot of the tallest stone, screaming my grief for no one to hear. All the rage and hopelessness and impotence left my body, leaving me emotionally drained and exhausted. The only thing left to do was to pick myself up off the ground and find my way back down to the road, and to the first sign of the century I had returned to.

Recalling a fuzzy memory from 3 years past – though it felt more like 30 years – I carefully wandered down the hill, facing the entrance to the site. I expected to see the pathway where I had parked my car so very long ago, even with the vehicle most likely long gone. Evidence in my unusual disappearance, I’m sure. What would I tell the police? Frank? Would he believe the extraordinary tale of my absence? How would he react to the knowledge that his wife chose an 18th century Highlander over him?

The question wasn’t whether he would be capable of raising another man’s child, but rather, would he have me committed to a mental institution once I told him the truth?

Lost in thought and shrouded in grief, I was suddenly struck by the scenery around me. The growth of the trees was unchecked. There was no man-made path, no space meant for automobiles, no drive that led back to the road. The realization hit me like a simultaneous warmth of hope and dash of cold fear.

I still wasn’t in the 20th century.

I spun circles in a desperate attempt to recognize and identify my surroundings. The sounds of cannon blasts and musket fire, the noises I had left behind when I touched the stones, did not fill this place – this time. What if I only went a few years forward in time? Or a few days?

What if…what if I went back in time once more? What if it was 1743 again, and I was getting another chance?

With energy I didn’t know my body possessed, I made my way further into the brush, praying for a familiar sight or sound. Where was Angus, brandishing a pistol as he ran from a group of redcoats? Where was the gunfire, an event that confused and terrified me three years back, but would be a welcome occurrence now. To see Jamie again, to try and change our fates once more.

Heading towards the sound of rushing water, for the first time, I prayed to see Black Jack Randall before me. The symbol of the worst moments of our lives would be the most restorative sight imaginable.

But when I got to the water’s edge, there was no Randall. There were no rebellious Highlanders and no angered redcoats. I was alone, with no clue as to where in time I had ended up. While every part of me begged to give up, to fall to the ground and curl into a ball, I pushed forward. For the life inside of me, I had to get to Inverness.

I had to figure out where the stones had seen fit to drop me.

 ——

The trek to Inverness reminded me of the countless marches Jamie had led his men on in the past few months. Cold, hungry, and exhausted, there were only two options: press on or give up. The latter was not an option, not with the promise I had made Jamie echoing in my mind.

_“I will name him Brian, after your father.”_

Brian. That small bit of light in my womb that encouraged my feet to move, one in front of the other. I had to find out what year this was before I could come up with a plan of survival. My heart broke at the thought of doing this alone, surrounded by strangers and dangerous situations. Jamie had selflessly tried to send us back (or forward, I suppose) to safety, but fate couldn’t even allow him that much grace.

Could I find work as a healer? How would I be looked upon, pregnant with no husband and no family? Would I be sneered at, or worse yet, be seen as a witch? Frigid dread wormed its way around my throat, pressing insistently. I had to be cunning, I had to survive, I had to keep Brian safe.

Miles upon miles later, I was staring at the familiar buildings of Inverness. Even with an exhausted mind, I attempted to take in every detail and clue surrounding me. The structures looked the same as when I last saw them, and the people milling about were still dressed in 18th century clothing. The distinctive tartans of the kilts all but confirmed one fact: I was in a time before Culloden and the Dress Act, which would ban the wearing of Highland regalia for over 30 years in an effort to stamp out any further Jacobite rebellions. I was one step closer to figuring out the time I ended up in, to be sure, but that was only a minor task in the looming challenge before me. At the very least, I was more prepared for my situation than I had been three years ago. Confused, lost, trapped, away from everything I had ever known, with only vaguely remembered knowledge of the culture I had to navigate and survive. Now, I had the lived experience of several years in the 18th century, to the point where it felt more like my home than anywhere else I had ever been.

Of course, having Jamie by my side was the main factor that contributed to that feeling of belonging.

Thoughts of Jamie created an almost unbearable pressure on my heart, as though my chest was trying to cave in on itself to further shield that wounded part of me. Did he exist in the year I was currently navigating? And what of the man I had left behind at Craig Na Dun? He told me he meant to die on Culloden Moor, fighting for his men and for Scotland and for a naïve Prince who had more hubris than good sense.

I stopped near a tavern, unable to withstand the rumble and roiling of my empty stomach much longer. I didn’t have much in terms of payment, patting myself down like a person looking for a lost set of keys, hoping for some coin. It was then that I realized I had lost Jamie’s father’s ring. Sadness washed over me as I thought of the family heirloom I was meant to give to our child. With a heavy heart, I continued to categorize my meager belongings. All I could think of were things I could not part with. Ellen’s pearls, Jamie’s wedding ring, my clothing.

Frank’s wedding ring.

I looked down at my left hand, the gleam of the gold catching the weak Scottish sun. The reason I touched the stones again in the first place was to keep my promise to Jamie – to go back to Frank in his absence, back to a living, breathing man who would care for me and my unborn child. Now, not only was I no closer to fulfilling that promise, I was considering selling the last link I had to my first husband outside of my memories.

In the end, my answer was clear: I needed to survive, not for my sake, but for my child’s.

With a fortitude summoned from deep within me, I managed to pawn the ring for some money and bought myself a meal (hot stew and stale bannocks had never tasted so good), and transportation.

I was going to Lallybroch.

——

I slept fitfully during the bumpy wagon ride from Inverness to Lallybroch. My body’s exhaustion warred with the dread over my situation, allowing me only brief minutes of sleep before I would awake with a start and think over my plan once more.

With no family or connections, and no obvious way to determine what year I had been dropped into, my options were limited. The chances of gaining employment as anything other than a prostitute in a brothel seemed slim, and my only hope was to find familiar faces I could trust. It wasn’t lost on me that the backstory I told in 1743 was that I was a widow on my way to France to stay with my husband’s family.

I couldn’t exactly waltz up to the door of Lallybroch and explain who I was, that much I knew. I also knew that if Jamie was there, I couldn’t let him see me, lest that change future events. I wasn’t so arrogant as to not realize the many risks and issues with my idea, but I needed to try. I knew the Frasers and their tenants to be good, kind people and my best hope for assistance. I truly had no other options.

The knowledge of my desperation did nothing to temper the fear inside me over what I would find at the end of this tumultuous ride. So many things could go wrong, impact a future that I had already changed by traveling through the stones in the first place. Was it possible for me to have ended up in a time I had already been through? Could I arrive at Lallybroch, only to see a slightly younger version of myself tending to the garden or welcoming Jamie back from a day in the fields? Or could it be the time when Jamie and I were in France, and I would have no explanation as to my sudden appearance on Scottish soil without my husband. What would I do then?

In truth, I tried not to give too much thought to the act of time traveling. I accepted that it was possible and that it happened to me, but I never pondered over the impact or the repercussions of the act itself. It had been hard enough to accept my circumstances in the first place without getting into deeper thoughts about the capabilities of time travel. Even when we tried to stop the Rising from happening, and when we tried to win the war that couldn’t be stopped, I never pondered over the ramifications of thousands of people living instead of dying. Of a culture meant to end enduring on. The only thing that had mattered was the safety of our family and friends.

Before I was fully prepared for what I was about to face, we arrived in Broch Mordha. I was struck with the thought that it had been less than a year since I walked through this village as Lady Broch Tuarach. How could something seem like it happened only yesterday while simultaneously feeling like a dream from a lifetime ago?

After thanking my hired transportation, I began the nearly ten mile trek from the village to Lallybroch. The path was as trying as I remembered it and I took great care in navigating the slopes and hills. Despite the treacherous conditions, I spotted Broch Tuarach long before nightfall came. I would be able to observe the area and formulate a plan. Maybe if I could….

“Good day to ye, lass. Are you lost?”

The deep, unfamiliar voice behind me robbed me of both movement and thought. All excuses I had rehearsed on the road left me in an instant as I coaxed myself to turn around and deal with the stranger addressing me.

The man standing before me was an imposing figure, impressively tall with broad shoulders and muscles most likely earned from long days in the fields. Strands of silver highlighted his black hair, pulled back and secured tightly. From what I could tell, he was most likely in his late forties, weathered but strong.

It was his facial features that gave him away: his strong jawline and wide mouth, his eyes, though hazel, were a distinctly familiar shape.

“You’re Brian Fraser.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re Brian Fraser.”

He offered up a small smile, kind and reassuring. “Aye, that’s me. And who might you be?”

My first time through the stones, once I realized what had happened, I had done my level best not to reveal my secret. I found out information on my own and relied on things I had learned from Frank and Uncle Lamb to blend in as best I could. I had known what the consequences would be should I tell anybody the truth of my circumstances. The one time I tried to get too creative, trying to bluff Black Jack Randall by saying I was also a spy of Sandringham’s, I had gotten myself into a much deeper mess.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming fatigue, or the hormones from my pregnancy. Most likely, it was a result of seeing Brian Fraser, the grandfather and namesake of my future child, the person who had raised my lost husband to be the great man he became. Whatever the reason, careless words bubbled up in my throat and tumbled out past my lips before I had a chance to think it through.

“What year is this?”

His hazel eyes widened slightly, a flash of shock showing on his face before he schooled his features into that blasted Fraser mask his son had clearly inherited. “The year? Why, it’s Seventeen Hundred and Forty. Are ye well, lass?”

1740\. I swayed on my feet slightly as the year registered in my mind. The year of Brian Fraser’s death. The year Black Jack Randall came into Jamie’s life and did all in his power to destroy it. The small amount of bannocks sitting in my stomach nearly made a reappearance. My heart broke again as I thought of all that Jamie had sacrificed for me and our child. His whole life, he gave every part of himself for the people he loved, and where did it get him? An early grave on a Godforsaken moor in a doomed war.

In that instant, I knew what I had to do. The risks, the consequences, all of it made little difference to me. For all that he had done for me; I was going to repay the debt.

And damn my heart and soul in the process.

In that moment, all the sadness and grief washed away in a soothing ebb of warmth. Perhaps I would never get back to the 20th century. Perhaps I would never raise my child with a loving father in a safe environment, but all that mattered in the situation I found myself in was saving Jamie, sparing him a shortened life of torment and loss.

My voice came out stronger than I thought it would as I met Brian’s gaze. “I know this is going to sound mad, and I don’t know how I can make you believe me, but I need you to listen to me. Every word. I’m a close friend of your family. Or rather, I will be. You see, I’m from the future.”

There was a beat of bewilderment before his tone turned sympathetic. “Ach, lass, I fear ye’ve been out in the elements too long. Ye’re tired, hungry. Come, we’ll fetch ye something to eat from the main house. My daughter is a few years younger than you, she may be able to find you something clean to wear.”

“Your daughter Jenny, yes, I know her. Will know her. Damn it, please, listen,” I started with a slight panic. I needed him to believe me, to trust my story and heed my words. If I couldn’t get him to take that leap of faith, this would all be for naught. “You also have a son, Jamie, who’s two years younger than her. You met your wife Ellen at a Gathering at Castle Leoch. She was supposed to marry Malcolm Grant but she chose you instead. You both ran away, came here, and built Lallybroch.

“There-there’s a blade under your bed – 10th century Viking, five-lobbed pommel. Jamie has a carved wooden snake named Sawny, made for him by your eldest child, Willie. Willie passed away from small pox when he was eleven.”

Brian still didn’t seem convinced as I rambled on, not that I blamed him. Everything I told him so far were facts I could have gleaned from others. Nothing pointed to the conclusion that I was anything other than a raving lunatic, or perhaps a conman. Still, I pressed forward.

“What matters most is that you listen to what I have to say now. In October of this year, you will leave Lallybroch to attend a funeral. While you’re away, Redcoats will come for food and supplies. Two will try to attack Jenny, but Jamie will stop them. It’s that moment that will forever change your son’s life.”

Despite what sounded like the rantings of a mad woman, I still had Brian’s attention, so I continued the story. I told him how Randall will string Jamie up and beat him, how he’ll coerce Jenny to escort him inside in order to stop the assault on her brother (though, after a few blows, she would come to no further assault from Black Jack). I explained how Jamie would be charged with obstruction and held at Fort William, only to attempt escape with a bit of food and be sentenced to two hundred lashes.

Here, I got to the point in the tale where Brian would witness his son’s second round of flogging. Once, years ago, I told Randall the date of his death, and experienced a sense of dark pleasure at the shock and fear that lit across his face. The emotion I felt now, foretelling my father-in-law’s untimely demise, was the polar opposite. Even with his obvious doubts, Brian’s face paled slightly at my words, at hearing he would die witnessing his son being flogged near to death.”

“He will manage to escape Fort William after that, with the help of kin, but he’ll be forced to live as an outlaw. He will not be able to come back to Lallybroch, take his place as Laird, see his sister, or even live as a Fraser. The Mackenzies will give him shelter, but he’ll be forced to answer to a false name to protect himself from the price on his head – for a murder he didn’t commit.”

“Please,” the once-strong voice shook slightly, “I dinna want to hear any more of this.”

“I’m sorry, but I must tell you.  If you know what is to come, you can try to change it.” It wasn’t lost on me that simply knowing the future was not enough to fix the wrongs that would someday come to pass – a lesson I had learned the hard way several times. Still, this was my only chance to save both Jamie and his father. As difficult as the words were to say, I told him about Wentworth, the black mark Randall would make on Jamie’s soul. The rest was explained quickly and vaguely, always leaving my role in Jamie’s life out of the story.

“You’ve raised an amazing man, Mr. Fraser. I know this is difficult to comprehend, but you can save him from the pain he is going to endure. You can save your own life, as well.”

The man remained silent, searching my face for any hint of dishonesty, perhaps a sign of insanity. “How? How is this possible? How could ye have come here from the future? Are ye a witch?”

“No,” I sighed, so used to that question by now. “I still don’t know how this works, to be honest. I was just a normal person who accidentally touched a standing stone at Craigh Na Dun, which led me to this time. I’m not a witch, or a fairy, though some have taken to calling me a White Lady.”

“I…I dinna ken what to make of all of this.”

“I’m sure right now it all seems implausible. All I ask is that when October comes and you’re called away to a funeral, don’t go. Send Jamie instead. Keep Jenny out of sight when the Redcoats come, and don’t impede them when they take what is yours.”

He inhaled a deep breath, holding it for a few beats before releasing it slowly. Despite being a bastard, I knew his upbringing at Beaufort Castle afforded him an education. I only prayed he would be learned enough to accept what I had just told him. At the very least, to keep an open mind until he’s told of the funeral several months from now.

“I’m afraid to ask this but…is that all? Is there more to the prophecy ye’re telling me?” There was a vague hint of humour in his tone and I smiled sadly.

“Unfortunately, yes, there’s more. There’s to be a Jacobite uprising in 1745. Don’t join the cause. It’s doomed, and nothing can be done to change that. Believe me, I know. Instead, prepare for the aftermath. Plant potatoes. Store as much food as you can. Hide any valuables you don’t want to see stolen by the English. Sell any unprofitable land and prepare for a stretch of hard years that will see your Highland culture stripped from you. It will be extremely difficult, but I know how strong you Frasers are. And how stubborn.”

“How?” Off my questioning look, he continued. “How do you know my family?”

For what felt like the first time since the conversation began, I paused to choose my words carefully.  “I met your son through the Mackenizes, and was later introduced to your daughter. They’ve always been good to me, and if there was anything I could do to help them, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

The silence stretched as Brian digested my words, turned them over in his head and tried to wrap his mind around the impossible. I finally managed a deep enough breath to smell the familiar scent of farmland and heather, so linked in my mind to the place I had called home.

“I’m not sure if I believe you.” I felt my heart sink at his words. “But…but I will not ignore your warning. Should there be a reason to leave Lallybroch in October, I promise to send young Jamie in my stead. And if an army is roused to support the Stuarts in 1745, I will keep my family and my tenants out of the stramash. Ye have my word.”

All at once, I felt the tension drain out of me. This could work. This _would_ work. Brian would use this information to protect his son. Jamie would have the life he has always deserved. The Frasers would survive the Rising, together and strong.

“Come,” Brian said, gesturing to the manor behind him. “We’ll get some food in yer belly and a warm bed to sleep in.”

I remembered Jamie’s words to me as I begged him to come through the stones with me.

_Even if I could go back through the stones, it’s not my place._

This was not my place. Not now, not anymore.

“Thank you, but I cannot stay. I must go back to Craigh Na Dun, back to the standing stones.” Brian’s eyebrows shot up. After a moment, he nodded his head once, decidedly.

“Aye, if ye wish. I shall accompany you there.” Before I could protest, he raised his hand. “If all ye said is true, then I owe you my life as well as the soul of my son. This is the least I could do to repay you.”

Too tired and not foolish enough to refuse an escort back, I merely smiled. It felt as though I had been drained of everything; all the pain, fear, and hurt that had taken up residence in my soul. All that was left was a calm, if empty, peace.

The ride back to the fairy hill was mostly quiet, peppered with a few queries from Brian as to the future. I didn’t want to reveal too much, lest my interference change some of the good along with the bad. I assured him that Jenny was – would be – happy and healthy and well-loved, and that despite all Jamie had suffered through, he was still a great man. I reiterated the need to prepare for the aftermath of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s doomed cause, in order to see those who relied on him safe through the hard years of famine and oppression. I also revealed facts about myself, albeit hesitantly. Vague things such as the fact that I was a healer, that my parents had died when I was young and I had been raised by my uncle. I purposefully left out that I was pregnant, and that I had left a husband on the other side of the stones – twice. I didn’t even reveal my name, simply mentioning that someone very dear to me referred to me as “Sassenach”. He barked out a laugh, and I assured him it was said with the utmost affection.

As we crested the hill and were greeted with the sight of the stone circle, I felt a sense of the unknown drape around my shoulders. I had always been relatively sure that laying my hands upon the magical mystery before me would return me to the 20th century. Now, I had no way of knowing where they would take me.

For a long time, I stared at the top of the hill, awaiting some sort of sign as to my fate. So lost in my contemplation, I nearly missed Brian’s question. “Do ye have a place to go?”

A place to go. Like I was boarding a ship and sailing across the ocean to a different country rather than a different time. I had no answer to give, not an honest one at least.

“If ye need shelter, ye’ll come back to Lallybroch.” It was closer to a command than a request or an offer. I looked over the man, and even in the short time I’d spent with him, I saw all the qualities Jamie and Jenny spoke of so fondly. I saw the man who would so largely shape their lives long after he was gone. If this worked, they would be given more time with him. He would hopefully be able to see the birth of his first grandchild.

“Thank you,” I said with no shortage of emotion vibrating through my speech. “Take care of them.”

“Always. Safe journeys to ye, Sassenach.”

I smiled, the tears nearly spilling as I turned to make my way up the fairy hill. With a sort of detachment, I wondered if this was to be the fate of Jamie and me. We could live, we could be safe, but we must be apart. Perhaps the 20th century really did await me on the other side of the stones this time.

The sound of the buzzing and the magnetic pull washed over me as I was guided to the stones by some unseen current. I raised my hands as my steps took me forward slowly but surely until my fingertips felt a recognizable coolness and the world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

_I thought I was dead_

Laying in the damp grass with my eyes closed, even before my wits had the chance to return to me, I knew that I had just taken my last trip through the stones. Without a doubt, I realized another attempt would kill me. Every part of me felt weak, ripped apart and put back together haphazardly. I could only pray that the life growing inside of me was sheltered and safe.

There was a moment, remaining in a prone position and refusing the open my eyes, where I could convince myself that I was anywhere – any time. I could be back in 1743, where I knew familiar faces were running about the Highlands. I could be in the 1940s, so close to safety for myself and my child.

The echoing sound of cannon fire tearing through my serene thoughts shattered any illusion I could have about the year. 1746, the Battle of Culloden.

Irrationally, I began yelling Jamie’s name, as if he had just brought me up here himself to send me away to a better life. I sat up and began looking around in a panic. Surely he must be close, possibly descending down the hill to return to the battlefield, or already on horseback. Even as I looked, I knew logically that I would not catch sight of messy red hair or familiar tartan. Jamie wasn’t here.

If my plan had worked, he had never been here.

I spent a long time sitting in the grass, heartsick yet sure of my decision. Now was the time to formulate a plan, to choose where I went from here. Trying to survive as an unwed pregnant Englishwoman now would be impossible. Even if I journeyed to the nearest garrison, told a heart-wrenching and sympathetic story that would grant me passage to England, I had no one to go to. My only option was the one that held the most promise as well as the most potential for emotional destruction.

I stood, and once more, I started off towards Lallybroch.

 

\---

 

I had spent so much time over the past three years travelling through the Scottish Highlands and living off the land. Whether in times of peace with the rent party of the Mackenzie men, or in times of war with the Jacobite army, I had always been able to survive the elements, no matter how harsh. However, there were now two obvious differences that I was dealing with. First of all, I had no horse to take me quickly over the terrain. Secondly, I was alone. Jamie wasn’t here to help catch rabbits or plot the best route or keep me safe while I slept.

My journey was slow-going and took everything I had. I foraged as much food as I could find, slept in short bursts hidden amongst large rocks and fallen trees, and kept a wary eye out for Redcoats in search of Jacobite soldiers. There were times I believed I wouldn’t make it, that I would lie down on the spot and give in to the inviting oblivion of death. That’s when my hand would find its way to my stomach; to the small bump that encouraged my feet forward. The familiar nausea was the greatest gift I could ask for. As long as I felt the upheaval in my gut, I knew my baby still had a chance.

It felt like a lifetime, my mind plagued with uncertainty that I was going the right way and Jamie’s voice in my head guiding me along, before I finally spotted it: the “north-facing” tower without a face. I wanted to fall to my knees and weep. I didn’t care about the consequences or the implications of what my interfering may have had.

If Brian had been able to avert the disastrous future ahead of him, Jamie, at 25 years of age and a future Laird instead of an outlaw, would most likely be married. Throughout my travels here, my heart would sink at the thought. Now that I had made it, I could only count my blessings that I was alive and in a place where I could find safety and shelter.

Feet blistered and sore, head woozy from lack of nutrition, stomach rolling from the not-so-morning morning sickness, I pushed myself that last small distance through the fields towards Lallybroch, towards something so known and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. Towards….

“Sassenach!”

My heart stuttered for a beat or two at hearing the name, lungs seizing inside my chest. I followed the sound and saw Brian, standing near a cart of hay with a pitchfork in his hands. Even from this distance, I could tell he didn’t look too much older than he did when I last saw him – in 1740.

He quickly made his way over to me, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder as a wobbled slightly. It felt as though the last of the adrenaline fueling my journey had seeped out of my body in a rush and left me drained and feeling every ache and ailment.

“ _Ah Dhia_ ,” he muttered as he looked me over. “That’s…that’s the same dress ye wore when I brought ye to the fairy hill.”

He looked at me as though I was a ghost, and perhaps to him I was. I stood before him, the mysterious woman who delivered a prophecy of his doom and his family’s torment, not changed in the six years since I disappeared like a mist before him.

All of a sudden, he came back to himself. Snapped out of his revere, he held my upper arm firmly but gently and urged me forward. He shouted to one of the men working the fields with him to run to the house and have Mrs. Crook heat some stew right away. I barely managed to stumble beside him as I willed my body to push on just a little bit further. Through the doorway and up the steps I had treaded upon so many times before, Brian assisted me the whole way. The smell of cooked food washed over me like the most soothing balm, nearly knocking me over with relief. Thankfully, Brian helped me down into a chair and ushered Mrs. Crook to the table. A large bowl was placed right under my nose, along with a plate of bannocks.

“The famine,” I croaked out, turning a panicked gaze towards Brian. “Did you prepare?”

The Laird, once dazed, smiled warmly. “Aye, lass. We’ve been growing potatoes for years, and we’ve built up quite the stockpile of food and supplies to get us through the dark years to come. Thanks to you. Now, eat yer fill. Mrs. Crook will have a bed prepared for ye when that bowl is clean.”

Not needing to be told twice, I dug in with enthusiasm. To me, this was the grandest meal I had ever been served. I just barely remembered to observe proper manners by not attacking the food like a wild beast, telling myself that anything wolfed down too quickly would make an unwelcome reappearance shortly thereafter.

Standing off to the side, Brian broke the silence. “Can ye tell me yer name now?”

“Claire,” I replied after I swallowed a mouthful of vegetables. I paused, realizing I would once again have to conceal my recognizable married name. “Claire Beauchamp.”

“Weel, it’s a pleasure to meet ye formally, Claire.”

After half a dozen more spoonfuls of the fragrant broth, I spotted a flash of dark hair out of the corner of my eye; a woman peering into the dining room with wary curiosity. Too tired from all that had happened to be cautious, I offered a timid smile. “Jenny.”

Jenny pulled back slightly as though slapped. Instead of responding, she turned to her father with a questioning gaze.

“ _A nighean_ , this is the lass I’ve been telling you about all these years, the _ban-druidh_ , the one who saved our family. Claire Beauchamp,” Brian explained casually, as if introducing his daughter to a childhood friend and not a prophesizing witch. Jenny still didn’t seem settled, and with a quick nod, made a hasty retreat.

“Did she marry Ian Murray?” I asked suddenly, hoping my interference hadn’t impacted their union.

“Aye, about 5 or 6 years ago now. They have three bairns of their own.”

“Wee Jamie, Maggie, and Kitty,” I finished for him. He seemed a touch surprised before he remembered exactly who he was speaking to. I wanted to ask about Jamie, to know if the future Laird had spent the past 6 years building a family of his own, but I was too cowardly to confirm my own heartache. Instead, I finished the rest of the meal in front of me and retired to the room that had been readied upstairs.

I have always believed there are healing powers in a good wash, clean clothes, and sleep in a warm bed. All it took were those three things – along with a full belly – for me to feel almost normal again. Gone was the wild woman who had pulled herself out of the forest, who had been scared and hungry and tired and alone, replaced with the clear-headed, civilized version of herself. It was time to figure out what was next for me and my child. At the very least, it appeared Brian’s goodwill towards me would translate into a shelter from the hardship befalling Scotland at the hand of Cumberland’s army. Perhaps I could trade my services as a healer here for room and board. I’d also have to explain the pregnancy and the unnamed husband who would have perished on the other side of the Stones, in a different 1746.

Unsure of how long I had slept, I made my way down the stairs quietly. I followed the sound of voices to the sitting room and saw Brian and Ian, both with drinks in hand. It was an odd feeling, to be in a place that was once considered my home, where I was now a stranger and a guest. Not knowing the proper protocol, I waited for Brian to acknowledge my presence and invite me to sit. A dram of whisky was thrust into my hands before I could blink an eye.

The sound of approaching footfalls filled the air and I knew without looking who and what I was about to face. No matter how much time I had spent going over this meeting in my mind, I knew it would never be long enough. With the confidence of a man in his own house, Jamie entered the room in a flurry of red hair and familiar tartan. Everything I had done to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for this moment shattered apart like the flimsiest of glass panes. I struggled mightily to contain the feelings from showing on my face, but more than likely failed miserably. It was Jamie, with the same copper curls and blue eyes, broad shoulders and capable hands that I knew intimately. Yet this Jamie was not mine. As far as I knew, he had not lived through the trials and tribulations of being an outlaw or a traitor. He was never flogged, never gave his body up to save his wife, never fought a losing war. Many of the physical scars that I remembered would be gone. Even from here, I could see his left hand bore no marks or stiffness.

“Grannie McNabb’s roof won’t be leaking again any time soon,” Jamie told his father by way of greeting. Hearing his voice again hit me sharply, his parting words still an echo in my heart. At the time, I thought it was a voice I would never hear again, outside of my dreams.

“Good lad. Jamie, I want ye to meet Claire Beauchamp. I ken ye didna believe me, but this is her, the Sassenach that came to Lallybroch 6 years past with her warning.” By the tone of his voice, it seemed as though Brian was relishing telling his son who I was, an indication that he was doubted before and was all too pleased to say, ‘I told you so’.

Throughout Brian’s introduction, I watched the curiosity in Jamie’s blue eyes transform into something else entirely. I’d seen the look before, but never once directed at me.

Mistrust. Anger. Disgust. The ferocity of it took my breath away.

“May I speak to you in the other room?” Jamie gritted out, teeth nearly clenched shut. Without waiting for his father’s response, Jamie spun on his heel and stormed out of the sitting area. A huff escaped Brian and I knew a Fraser showdown was about to occur. I would have found the situation more amusing if I wasn’t already reeling from the coldness of Jamie’s gaze.

Even after everything that had changed, did his soul really not recognize mine? Did it not hear the calling of its mate and answer back? Was he no longer the man that had wanted me from our first meeting?

_You chose this_ , a voice inside me whispered.

I did choose this, and I would make the same choice again given the option. I would risk every ounce of happiness to save Jamie anguish and grief.  Still, my hand drifted to my midsection and cradled the little life there, sheltering it and bracing myself against the pain of prolonged heartbreak.

The men argued fiercely in Gaelic, and while I was able to catch a few words, they spoke too fast and too heatedly to follow along. I did hear words like witch, and fool, and trouble from Jamie. Brian had countered with safety and ungrateful. A few feet from where I was seated, Ian turned his empty glass round and round in his palms. His smile was tight and awkwardly uncomfortable.

“Jamie’s a bit of a hothead, ye ken?”

“Yes,” I replied quietly, “I’m aware.”

The conflict came to an abrupt end as Jamie stomped back in and stopped a few feet in front of me. Raising an accusing finger at me, his voice was low and menacing as he ground out, “You’ll take yer leave, witch. There’s nothin’ for you here. Leave us be.”

With an obvious lack of interest in any possible defense I could muster, he exited the sitting room once again, the pounding of his boots on the steps echoing through the air and speaking of his rage. I barely noticed my increased heart rate and shallow breathing. The walls seemed to be closing in around me and I struggled to rein in my emotions. The sound of Brian’s voice made me jerk out of my stupor.

“Forgive the lad, it’s been a stressful few months leading up to this date and he’s worrit about the hardships about to befall his family and our tenants.”

The words he spoke made sense – the Jamie I knew always put others first – but I had never seen him so cold. Even at his angriest, the emotion also burned and smoldered. This was like ice, permeating my spine and suffocating my heart. I wanted to speak, but the moment I opened my mouth, my body had other plans.

I raced back to the kitchen and grabbed a bucket, forcefully bidding farewell to the lovely meal I had enjoyed earlier. Tears slid down over my heated cheeks as I fought valiantly to catch my breath. Where would I go? Where would I raise this baby, and with what money?

“Yer with child then?”

I whirled around to face Brian, wiping a sleeve across my face in a poor effort to clean myself up and look slightly more presentable.

“How?” I gasped out, “How could you tell?”

The man smiled knowingly before pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw my daughter handle three pregnancies. My wife, four. Nothing made them move as fast as when they needed to vomit. How far along are ye?”

“3, maybe 4 months? I’m not really sure. Things have been rather hectic lately,” I deadpanned, finding some water to rinse my mouth out with.

“Don’t listen to Jamie, lass. Ye’ll stay here, or in the village. I’m sure we’ll have need for a healer in the years to come,” he offered, as if he had read my mind. I suddenly felt drained and exhausted again. All I could do was smile tightly and nod, unable to voice my gratitude. After cleaning up the mess I had just made, I returned to the guest room, intent on getting some more much needed rest.

Before being mightily dragged into sleep by a fatigue I was powerless to defend against, my thoughts were plagued by a familiar stranger and his utter disdain for me.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I spent an unreasonable amount of time in my room. Everything I could think of to delay going downstairs, I did at a snail’s pace. I made the bed, with corners that would impress any drill sergeant. I dressed myself with the care of someone who had never worn the traditional 18th century garments. I finger-combed my hair, stroke after stroke, until I could no longer find a tangle. Eventually, I had to face the terrifying concept of going downstairs for breakfast – and the potential conflict awaiting me. I just had to keep telling myself the result of what I had done was worth the cost.

I crept into the kitchen, heart beating rapidly as I looked around for signs of danger. A couple of servants bustled in and out – less than I was used to seeing around Lallybroch. A sigh of relief bubbled out of me as I saw a pot of porridge still simmering. Scoping myself a portion, I turned to scurry back to my room and let out a yelp, nearly dropping my bowl in the process.

“Murtagh!”

The man in question raised two bushy eyebrows in surprise before looking at me speculatively. He took in my appearance and I tried not to shrink under his appraisal.

“Aye, and ye’re the Sassenach witch Brian’s been havering about for years,” he spoke plainly, and I expected no different. It was certainly better than the _first_ first impression we had – him playing rescuer then kidnapper all in the span of 2 minutes. Though I was looked upon as a witch, I felt secure in the knowledge that no one at Lallybroch would have me burnt at the stake.

Save perhaps one inexplicably angry red head.

“Well, not exactly a witch, but yes. The Prophesizing Sassenach. I should take my act on the road. Though, I refuse to sing this time.”

Murtagh looked at me as though I was a loon, and I could tell he was already itching to make a hasty retreat from the kitchen. “I dinna ken what you are, truly. All that matters is that ye’ll bring no harm to the people here.”

“Never. You have my word. I just want to see everyone at Lallybroch safe,” I promised. After searching my face for honestly, he nodded once, appeased by what he saw. Without another word, he grabbed a bannock and marched out of the kitchen.

Right past a glowering Jamie.

I couldn’t understand it. What had I done to enrage him so? Not once in all the time I had known him had he once shown this kind of derision for me. Even before we were married, traveling with the rent party, it was more like gentle impatience when I refused to open up to him or accept the Highland way of life.

Hell, even in France when I tried to stop him from duelling with Randall, his rage was reserved for Black Jack. I only received his hurt and betrayal.

“You may have my father fooled, but I’m no’ so easily swayed by mysterious words and a sweet smile,” he warned before disappearing after his godfather. I was left speechless. Did saving his father and sparing him from Randall really change him that much? I couldn’t see a trace of the sweet Jamie I had known for three years.

One thing hadn’t changed though. Jamie was still a man who would defend his family against any perceived threat, and to him, that’s what I was.

Shoulders slumped, I tried once more to escape to the sanctuary that was my room. Fate seemed to be against me, however, as I saw Jenny darning socks in the sitting room.

“Dinna fash yerself over my brother. He has his own matters to deal with,” she informed me with a smile as she continued her work.

“Yes, I gathered that. He was never so....”

“Angry as a stung horse and stubborn as an ox?” Jenny finished for me. I couldn’t help the wry laugh that escaped me.

“The stubbornness I expected. That is a Fraser trait, after all.” At this she smirked and offered no argument. “The anger, however, that one is new. I thought with the information I gave your father and the moments he averted, Jamie would have had an easier life.”

“Well, I dinna ken exactly how things were supposed to go originally – Da was always vague about the details – but life has no’ exactly been easy for Jamie since that prophecy of yers. I get his frustrations. Father would barely let me cross the doorway without an escort, and always sent me to the priest hole when there were sightings of Redcoats. But for Jamie, it was worse. The lad fostered at Leoch and studied at a university in France. He was ready to be a man upon returning to Lallybroch but was instead treated as if he were a boy. Hiding from the English and never going to Broch Mordha without Father or Murtagh. He thought he would be marrit with bairns by now, preparing to be Laird.”

I started at both revelations: that Jamie had led such a sheltered life these past 6 years, and that he was still unmarried despite his status (and many other positive traits).

“I didn’t…I didn’t realize your father would go to those extremes. I thought he would just prevent the one incident I told him about, prepare for the failed uprising, and then life would go on as normal,” I stuttered, setting my now-cold porridge on a table and dropping onto the settee.

“Oh aye, it was like father changed overnight. We could see the difference in him after he brought you back to the fairy hill, but after whatever happened or didn’t happen that October, he became paranoid. His father always had an interest in the supernatural, but Da held no stock in seers or fairies or the like. It was bad enough that people called him a selkie. Once he believed what you told him to be true, it was like he feared fate would come to rebalance the scales.”

 “Do you believe me? That I’m from the future?” My voice came out small, and I was surprised at how badly I needed her to say yes.

She regarded me for a moment, weighed the thoughts in her mind and took measurement of them. Finally she said, “I do, aye. I dinna ken what you are exactly, or how it works, but I ken you had knowledge of events that would come to pass and you shared that information with my father. Was it really because you wanted to help? You had no ulterior motives?”

“I swear to you,” I breathed out, “I only meant to save your family from pain.”

Jenny graced me with that typical Fraser nod of acquiescent, confident in her assessment of me, before she returned to the task in her hands. As I rose to leave, I heard her add, “Be patient with Jamie. He’s thick-heided but he’s kind. Once he figures out for himself that you mean no ill will, he’ll no’ treat you so rudely.”

I certainly hoped she was right.

After half-heartedly prodding at the congealed porridge I had brought up to my room, I managed to finish every last bite – the thought of the upcoming famine never far from my mind – and meandered out to the courtyard. The promise of summer was slowly starting to fill the air, and I considered asking Brian if I could tend to some of the gardens. If I were to take up the post of healer for Lallybroch and Broch Mordha, I would need to build up supplies and....

“What are you doing poking about?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin upon hearing Jamie’s near-accusing question. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Must you sneak up on people like that?”

Despite his stormy demeanor, he managed a smirk – bloody bastard was pleased with himself. “Aye, weel, if you arena doing anything wrong, you wouldna be so quick to startle.”

“I’ll have you know I was just taking stock of what the gardens need,” I informed him as I crossed my arms defensively. “There are plenty of wild herbs growing on the property that can be transferred and tended to here.”

“Ye ken what grows on the property, do ye?”

I sighed, still coming to terms with his attitude paired with such a familiar voice and face. It was a constant battle to remind myself that this wasn’t _my_ Jamie. This Jamie cast a suspicious eye on me, wary of my intent and annoyed at the shadow I left over his transition into adulthood. I knew he blamed me for the change in his father’s personality, and despite the reason for it, it was hard for him to gain perspective.

It would be easy to think him ungrateful, given the changes made and the trials and tribulations avoided, but to him those events would simply be abstract concepts. How could one wrap their mind around terrible things that would never come to pass? The only thing Jamie knew was the sudden lack of freedom and a superstitious father. Besides, according to Jenny, Brian never went into detail about the horrors that would befall their family.

Still, it was difficult to be at odds with Jamie, any version of Jamie. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter when Jenny mentioned he was unmarried. Visions quickly flashed through my mind, of the two of us together and happy and whole, with our child on the way.

But how could that dream ever be reality when Jamie held such a disdain for me? And how do you tell a man that even though you’ve never made love, you’re carrying his child? It was a concept I could barely straighten out in my mind, and I was living it. I started to wonder if coming back to Lallybroch, if staying here, was the right choice. Once again, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t about me; every decision I made would have to be for the baby. In the end, I knew that no matter where our paths led – together or separate – I needed to end this battle.

“All right, that’s it. You and I are going to discuss this like adults. No more sneering or snide remarks. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m willing to answer them,” I informed him, squaring my shoulders and preparing for conflict.

Jamie had the good sense to look at least a little chastised but shook his head. “I’ll no’ get into a stramash wi’ you in the dooryard of my home.”

“Then where would you like to go? The barn? The mill wheel? The other side of the broch?” I could hear the snippiness in my tone but I couldn’t help it. Even if Jamie was acting out over something he didn’t understand, he was still being an arse.

Surprisingly, Jamie turned with a huff and nodded towards the barn. Maybe I had expected him to refuse my suggestion of a tête-à-tête and continue on stubbornly with his bitter behaviour. It was hard to predict his thoughts and his future choices the way I once used to. Where once stood a man forced to grow up quickly, now was a lad whose protected life may have bred an immaturity I never saw in him.

When we stepped inside the barn, I held my arms out in a gesture of invitation for his interrogation. “Whatever you want to know; ask. I will try to answer as best and as honestly as I can. Someone once told me about having room for secrets but not for lies. You have my word that everything I tell you will be the truth, but I reserve the right to hold onto some secrets of my life.”

Jamie sized me up, taking pause to formulate a line of questioning – or perhaps a plan of attack. Steeling himself in a gesture I had seen before, he started, “Are you a witch?”

Suddenly I was seated under a giant tree that blocked out the sun, my dress torn and my back stinging from being strapped. Instead of a suspicious tone, I heard one of concern. I saw blue eyes that pleaded for truth, regardless of what that truth might be. I saw a man who was not looking to condemn me, but protect me.

“I’m not a witch,” I answered, the same way as the first time. “In truth, I don’t know what I am. You’ve heard of “The Woman of Balnain”? That seems like the closest explanation, though not entirely the same. The only thing I do know is when I touch the stones atop Craigh Na Dun, I travel through time. I don’t know the rhyme or reason behind when I end up. I’ve also met one other woman with the…ability.”

Geillis Duncan. Would she have met the same fate in _this_ altered timeline? I couldn’t think of a reason why it would have been avoided. The only difference would be her going through the trial alone.

“What purpose did you have, coming here and warning my father of dark days?” he asked as he lowered himself onto a rickety old stool. Even seated, he was an imposing figure. I pondered his question, piecing out how to answer truthfully without revealing facts about the life we would have led together without my interference.

“At first, I didn’t know what year I was in. With no family to go to, I figured here would be the safest. I knew the people to be kind and trustworthy. When I met your father, I decided to warn him.” As I explained my rationale, I wondered if that was the reason I ended up in 1740. My mind and my heart had been so focused on saving Brian – wee Brian, not yet born, perhaps the stones saw fit to send me to a time where I could save his namesake instead. “How much did your father tell you about my warning?”

“I thought I was the one asking questions,” Jamie remarked with a half-smile. I must have been so starved for positive affection from him, because that small joke paired with the slight upturn of his lips had me glowing. I watched Jamie’s brow furrow as he recalled Brian’s words from years past. “All he said was a White Lady had warned him of life-altering events caused by the British army, and that the scenario you spoke to him about came to pass. He never said what was to happen, or what proof he had that you were anything but a loon. All I ken was how fearful he became every time he heard tell of Redcoats near our lands. I believe if he could have locked Jenny and I up in a tower, he would have.”

Given what Jenny told me, I knew Brian had withheld what I told him, but I didn’t realize to what extent. I was curious as to why he chose not to tell his children, even if it meant bearing their resentment or confusion. And though it may not have been my place, I truly felt Jamie deserved to know the full story. And so I told him, in general statements that were still more detailed than the information he had, about what had been prevented. I watched the colour drain from his face as I went on, confirming to him why Brian had developed such an aversion to the English.

“Please don’t be angry with your father. I’m sure he had his reasons for not telling you the whole story.”

Jamie’s gaze remained fixed on a far wall – the thousand yard stare I had seen from him many times before. I could tell his mind was working hard, turning over what I had said and moments from the past six years that were taking on a new meaning to him. Finally he looked at me, seeing right to my very soul, before standing and walking past me towards the door.

Before he could cross the threshold, he stopped and turned back to me. “I still don’t understand this, but if what you say is the truth, then I thank ye. Not just for me, but for my family and our tenants. For saving my father’s life. And…I’m sorry. I blamed you for things that werena yer doing, painted ye in a false light, and I treated ye poorly.”

With a stately bow, Jamie took his leave. It was all I could do to remain on my feet and get my emotions under control enough to head back to the house.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days trudged by slowly as work was tended to around the estate. Brian kept a wary eye towards the road, waiting for the day a band of Redcoats would come for their first helping of unearned spoils. I wondered if, even now, he would hide his fully grown children away in order to protect them. Thankfully, it seemed as though their secreted stockpiles would last them for some time, as long as nothing spoiled and their locations weren’t discovered.

As for Jamie and I, we walked on slightly sturdier footing since that moment in the barn. I could tell there was still a cautious suspicion within him, his deeply entrenched need to defend his family not allowing him to simple accept  completely that I wasn’t a threat to Lallybroch. Still, it was nice to be greeted with a nod and a “Mistress”, instead of a glare or a biting comment.

How things had changed in such a short while. To be content with indifference, when in all truthfulness, there was nothing I wanted more than the warm embrace of my husband.

I often wondered to myself who this new version of Jamie was. I had been quick to label him as immature, given his reaction to my presence. Now that I knew what the past six years of his life had been, I was more willing to see that it was less about being a brat and more about being frustrated and in the dark. Seeing him with his family, however, that was where I saw the man I had known and loved. To see his warm teasing with Jenny, his comradery with Ian, and his deep respect for his father and Murtagh, I knew that part of him would never change. When I witnessed him playing with Wee Jamie, swinging the lad about and laughing heartily, I had to excuse myself to hide the tears in my eyes.

Helping with the household chores, I scrubbed at a filthy white shirt in the courtyard and ended up lost in my thoughts. Would Jamie and I become as close as we once were back at Leoch? Would he believe me if I told him the rest to the story – and that I was carrying his child? I was so plagued by my fretting that I didn’t hear the sound of boots pounding against the dirt.

“Claire!”

I turned away from the wash tub and saw Brian rapidly approaching. The worry in his voice made my stomach turn icy as possible scenarios raced through my mind. Discarding the shirt in my hands, I rushed over to meet him.

“It’s Jamie. The lad was thrown from his horse and he’s hurt. I need you to take a look,” Brian informed me, breath coming swiftly from the exertion of rushing to the main house. Without waiting for any further explanation, I started off towards the paddock where Jamie had been earlier, Brian close behind me. As we ate up the distance quickly, I saw Jamie seated on the ground, hunched over protectively, Murtagh standing off to the side. Even from where I stood, I could see what was wrong.

His right shoulder was dislocated.

I almost tripped over my own feet as I thought back to the first time we met: Jamie on a too-small stool, bathed in firelight, arm at an awkward angle. From a glance, aside from longer hair, he looked nearly the same. I fought to keep my composure as I ran to his side. The struggle to remain calm was made all the more difficult as he looked up and met my eyes. He was so…open. The sweat on his brow and the pain in his gaze – he needed help. He needed me.

“Can ye fix him up then?” Brian asked, panting slightly. With a nod, I requested something for Jamie to sit on as well as a belt. Murtagh hurried off and returned with a metal bucket before yanking the leather at his waist loose and handing it over.

With trembling hands, I grabbed Jamie’s arm at the correct spots. I gave him one last glance and nodded, watching him nod back as if to say he was ready.

_This is the worst part._

I went through the familiar motions of getting the joint back into its socket. The sickening pop and the sudden shift under the skin let me know that his shoulder was righted again.

_Taing Dhia! It doesna hurt anymore!_

“It will,” I managed to croak out, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact for fear my glass face would give me away. “You’ll be tender for about a week.”

My stomach twisted as I recited to Jamie the care instructions – words I had already spoken to him in a different life. It took more strength than I thought I possessed to loop the belt around Jamie and secure his shoulder without letting my hands shake.

“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked quietly, dipping his head to try and catch my gaze. With nowhere to hide, I let out a humourless huff of a laugh.

“I’m not the one who separated my shoulder,” I replied. If he noticed that I dodged his question, he at least had the grace not to call me out on it. I watched as he stood to his full impressive height, unable to find the self-preservation in me to look away.

“I thank you, Mistress.” His words came out strong, without a hint of pride or ego. He gifted me with a quick bow before he turned and followed Murtagh back into the barn, joking with his godfather about his horse being sent straight from the depths of hell itself.

“Seems ye have a knack for rescuing Frasers. I am indebted to ye once more, Claire,” Brian said with a rueful smile gracing his features.

“You’ve given me shelter and food, Mr. Fraser. I think it’s safe to say you’ve repaid that debt and then some.”

“And I think it’s safe to say ye’ve earned the right to call me Brian, lass,” he informed me warmly. I was once again struck by his kind countenance, so much like Jamie’s. I couldn’t be blamed for wondering, once again, if Jamie would have his father’s paternal instincts as well.

And if I would get to see those similarities with his own child.

The cold burn that nipped at my heart distracted me, and I turned to glance at the barn to compose myself once more.

“He’ll be fine, Sassenach,” Brian assured me, mistaking my intent for turning away yet somehow soothing my secret fears all the same. “He’s a braw lad, tough and sturdy and stubborn as ye please. He’ll be feeling fine in no time.”

I nodded, picking up my skirts as I began the walk back to the house. “Of course, as long as he doesn’t get himself hurt again.”

—

If I thought the change in Jamie after I revealed the truth of my prophecy was remarkable, his new demeanour towards me after I set his shoulder was just as incredible. He told me stories of his life over supper that day, speaking more in one sitting than he had in all the time since I arrived. Some of the tales were ones I had already heard, but I still listened intently and enjoyed the cadence of his voice and the charm of his storytelling. Others covered this new six year period he had a chance to re-do, giving me the opportunity to appreciate how his new experiences shaped him.

When I exchanged the belt for a more proper sling later that evening, it didn’t escape my notice his ease with regards to removing his shirt. It was a shock, to be sure, to see his back unmarred and scar-free. I knew it would be, of course, but like Jamie had said to me once: to know something is not the same as seeing it with your own eyes.  Instead of discomfort at baring his marked skin, Jamie had been simply antsy about healing quickly and being able to return to his normal household duties.

“I dinna want my father to be burdened o’ermuch by my injury. With what ye told me, about the apoplexy that would have taken him…,” Jamie trailed off, worry etched into the lines of his face. I gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and he laughed. “For years, I was so angry with him for treating me like a wean when he was only trying to keep me safe. Now I wish to do that very same thing to him.”

“That’s what you do for family,” I assured him softly, dropping my hand back to my side. “Just don’t push yourself too much too fast, or your injury will get even worse and hinder your recovery time.” I watched him nod absentmindedly, his gaze transfixed on the fire blazing in the hearth. With his attentions elsewhere, I found myself taking in his features, admiring the glow of the flames dancing over his skin and lighting his eyes. I yearned to wrap myself up in him, to lose myself in the strong embrace of his arms. I was heartsick for that love and companionship.

“Weel,” he started, breaking me out of my reverie, “I best be off to bed. Thank ye for tending me, Claire.”

My name on his lips sent a solid shot to my chest and I managed a weak smile as he stood and headed for the stairs. I remained where I was, inhaling the scent of woodsmoke as I tried to calm my racing heart. No matter who he was, it only took a simple word from Jamie to knock me off of my axis.

—

I kept a watchful eye on Jamie in the coming days to ensure he wouldn’t reinjure his shoulder in a foolhardy attempt to maintain his usual productivity. Instead, he stuck to tasks he could accomplish with one working arm. I observed him reviewing ledgers in his father’s study, washing potatoes for Mrs. Crook, even entertaining Jenny’s children so she could finish her chores in peace. Despite his obvious restlessness and wish to return to his full duties – a man unable to sit still for long – Jamie was in incredibly good spirits.

I found myself some distance from the house, digging up wild plants to bring to the garden, when I heard him yell out, “Sassenach!”

My heart and stomach did a simultaneous flip as I looked up from my work. I couldn’t seem to stop the hitch in my breath, the effect of hearing him call me that for the first time since I came here gripping me in a stranglehold. Using the short amount of time until his long strides carried him over to me, I began fiddling with the greenery in my basket, counting from one to ten and attempting to match my breathing with the pace. Without a moment to spare, I regained enough composure to look up and smile in greeting.

“Ye shouldn’t be out here by yerself, lass. Heaven knows when a Redcoat patrol will be along and we dinna want you to greet them alone,” he warned lightly. He was right, of course, but I had assumed the spot I was in was close enough to the house in case any danger may happen this way. Without waiting for a response, he took the basket out of my hands.

“I’m not finished here,” I informed him primly. There were still plenty of plants I could bring back and tend to in the courtyard garden.

Jamie offered me a lazy half smile, half smirk that I recognized well and sent my pulse racing. “That’s fine, Sassenach. I’ll hold yer wee basket while you dig up what ye need. I reckon it’s not too taxing on my one good arm, aye?”

“I think I can clear you for such a strenuous task,” I joked back, trying to hold the smile that wanted to break out on my face at bay. “How is your shoulder, by the way?”

He scratched his chin with the aforementioned injured arm, past the need for the sling but not yet ready to use to its full capacity. “Oh, it’s fine, Mistress. A wee bit sore, but no’ troubling me o’ermuch. The warm cloth at night helps.  I should be able to push it a bit further in a day or so.”

“Yes, well, as long as you don’t push too far. Listen to what it’s trying to tell you. If it starts hurting, you need to scale it back. Don’t be stubborn or attempt to battle through it with manly pride.”

“As you say, Mistress,” he acquiesced, tilting his chin down just so. I returned my attention to the shrubbery at my feet, finding myself taking much more care in removing the plants from the earth. I relished the extra time alone with Jamie, whether it was in comfortable silence or caught up in an amusing tale about a broken paddock rail and a herd of runaway goats. Finally, I could stall no longer as I handed him the final uprooted bundle of herbs. We made our way back to the house, enjoying the deceptive peace and calm around us, despite the knowledge of hard times about to come. Sooner or later, the English would ride up to Lallybroch demanding food and supplies. We could only hope their wrath would not be aimed at the innocent inhabitants of the area.

Approaching the dooryard, I saw Brian coming down the stairs with a bannock in hand. His gaze bounced from me to Jamie and back again, and his eyebrows drew together questioningly before rising up slightly. As I stood there, Jamie handed me my basket and reminded me to bring an escort the next time I went gallivanting, then trailed after his father. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I dissected the look on Brian’s face and could only ask myself one question.

Does he know that Jamie is the husband I left on the other side of the stones; the father of my unborn child?


	6. Chapter 6

Despite my best efforts, there weren’t many places to hide from Brian Fraser in and around Lallybroch. Visiting tenants and tending gardens could only keep me occupied for so long, and it was only a matter of time before I was forced to face the questions no doubt swirling in his mind.

And even if I could, I wouldn’t lie to him, not after all he had done for me.

So when he invited me to sit and have a meal with him at the impressive dining room table, I took a seat and mentally ran through what I would say to him.

While he didn’t come right out and say it, Brian seemed to have no intentions of beating around the bush with small talk. He simply took a deep breath, chose his words, and stated, “The father of yer child, I assume ye had to leave him on the other side of the stones at the fairy hill.”

“Yes,” I replied, taking a moment to even out my shaky voice. “I married him in 1743. He couldn’t travel through the stones, and he knew he had to fight the final battle at Culloden Moor.”

I watched him nod slowly, and despite the mask he wore to shield his emotions, I knew where his train of thought was heading. He took a healthy swig of the whisky in front of him, tapped the mug with his finger, and held a tight rein on his composure. He looked every bit the Laird he was, strong and calm and controlled.

“Ye came here six years ago to warn me against tragedies that would befall my family, said it was because the Frasers had always been good to ye. Is…is Jamie…,”

“He is,” I interrupted before he could fully get the question out. Just saying it – to anyone – lifted some of the weight that had been sitting on my shoulders since I arrived back at Lallybroch and discovered how life had turned out after my intervention. In the face of dealing with the conflict with Jamie and subsequent thawing of his emotions, it was easy to forget the issue of my baby’s parentage, but the relief I felt was proof of the burden. Now, my only fear was Brian’s reaction.

I watched him digest the information, eyeing the meager plate of food on the table that he had barely touched. Finally, a small smile appeared on his face.

“I always told the lad that when he met the woman for him, he’d ken her right away. I worrit though that perhaps I set his expectations too high. Any lassie that caught his eye never held it for long, and he’d tell me she wasn’t the one. I almost feared he would never marry and have a family of his own, but maybe it was because his heart kent to wait for ye.”

My own heart soared at his words, at the thought that on some level Jamie knew to wait for me. I told him once that the only way I could explain my ability to time travel, the fact that I was brought to him, was because he and I were meant to be together. We were soulmates, in every clichéd sense of the word. I had spent many nights recently trying to figure out this new layer of my traveling capabilities. Did I create an alternate timeline by changing things? Where in this blasted universe did I exist? Questions I couldn’t figure out the answers to plagued my mind, creating confusing tangles out of my trains of thought. The only constant that I knew for sure was my love for Jamie, and maybe that was enough of an explanation.

“He doesn’t know,” I informed Brian, watching him nod in understanding. “I haven’t figured out a way to explain it to him. He’s only just started to accept my presence here and I didn’t want to do anything to damage that.”

“I’ve seen the lad, Claire. I’d say it’s more than simply accepting yer presence. I kent it as soon as I saw him escorting ye back to the house. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. I thought for sure he would trip over his own two feet,” Brian disclosed with a grin. “Any ill-will or mistrust he once felt towards ye is a thing of the past. I dinna ken how you should tell him the truth of things or how he’ll take it, but he’ll trust yer heart. That’s the type of man my son is.”

I smiled warmly, covering his weathered hand with mine. “He’s a good man, just like his father.”

My smile was returned tenfold before Brian nodded almost bashfully and turned his attention back to his food. As we ate in a companionable silence, I couldn’t help but wonder if telling Jamie would be anywhere near as easy. All I could do was hope, and practice the words until they made some semblance of sense.

Before he left the room, Brian turned to me with a pleased, faraway look on his face. “Another grandchild. We certainly have been blessed.”

Little did we know, even the most blessed cannot stay that way for long.

\---

The morning had barely begun, the sun slowly touching the rolling hills of heather and the inhabitants of Lallybroch finishing with their breakfasts, when a breathless stable boy came bursting through the door.

“Redcoats,” he gasped out, fighting valiantly to speak despite his windedness. The boy must have ran a great distance with his message, as evidenced by the trails of sweat tracing down his forehead. I turned to look at Brian, who squared his shoulders and steeled his resolve.

“Jamie, get in the priest hole,” he ordered before giving Ian a nod, its meaning clear: take care of your family.

“Da, I –“

“Now!” The sudden boom of Brian’s voice startled me, the first time I had heard that tone from him in the month I had been here. The muscle in Jamie’s cheek jumped as he clenched his jaw and the desire to defy his father raged in his eyes. In the end, deference and obedience won out as he reluctantly acquiesced.

“Come, Sassenach,” Jamie’s gruff voice broke through my thoughts and I stared at him in a stupor. His annoyance at his father’s command and worry over the situation meant his patience was limited. “Come now before they question what an unmarried Englishwoman is doing in a Scot’s manor.”

Without waiting for my response, he grasped my hand tightly – the same hand I had once healed as best I could, one that now bore no signs of being crushed by evil masquerading as a man – and pulled me towards the secret room in the house. I felt every millimetre of contact between our fingers and palms, my skin tingling from the simple touch. I followed behind him in a daze, our footsteps echoing over the stone floor. We stopped before a wooden panel and I watched as Jamie pulled it and its mortar frame up. The barest amount of light in the hallway showed the ladder leading down into the hidden space, and Jamie guided me towards it with no hesitation.

Should a person have a fear of enclosed spaces, this would certainly not be the place for them. Seated on a bench, I took in the contents of the room without turning my head. The sound of Jamie replacing the wooden panel held my attention, and the limited light was cut even further once his task was finished. Only the weak beams shining through the drilled holes allowed us any sight at all.

In any other circumstance, watching Jamie’s large frame lumber down the short ladder and fill up the space around us would be amusing. But nothing seemed very humorous with the Redcoats on our doorstep.

I was struck with a sudden thought: I had told Jenny to build this hideaway, back before I changed everything. “Whose idea was the priest hole?”

“Da’s,” Jamie muttered, clearly distracted by the situation and frustrated over being hidden away instead of helping. He was a man of action, one not used to sitting on his hands while others tended to a situation. “After ye came ‘round the first time, he eventually started ranting like a madman, saying we needed a place to hide from the English.”

I nodded, eyes darting from Jamie to a jug of water, the chamber pot, and back to Jamie. His tense stance didn’t lessen, and I expected this ‘wait for the all clear’ plan coupled with the small room would do nothing to ease him. I shivered slightly at the colder temperature of the hidden room, which caught his attention. Before I could blink, he grabbed a folded up blanket and draped it carefully about my shoulders with a nod of satisfaction.

“Sit,” I implored him, scooting to one side of the bench to allow him room beside me. He did as I instructed, and even if I had moved half off the tiny seat, I still would have felt the warmth of his side against my own. As it was, we sat with knees, hips, and arms pressed together. My heart, up until now only mildly affected by the fear of the Redcoat patrol, was now beating double-time over the proximity.

‘Control yourself, Beauchamp,’ I told myself, ‘this is not the time.’

I was suddenly sweltering under the thin, raggedy blanket.

“I hate this,” Jamie snarled out, annoyed by the impotence he felt in this scenario. “I am a man grown. How can I be expected to take over the title of Laird Broch Turach if my father hides me away like a helpless wean at the first sign of trouble?”

“Have you tried talking to him? Preferably when the English aren’t on your doorstep?”

“Aye, every time the Redcoat bastards leave our lands, it’s the same argument. He just tells me I’ll never be Laird if I’m dead and walks away.” I could practically feel the thrum of agitation coming off him in waves, washing over me in the crowded hiding spot. If we weren’t careful, his emotions would drown us both. I didn’t allow myself to think as I scooped up his hand and cradled it gently between my own. We sat silently, the pace of our breathing syncing as the seconds passed.

A huff of a laugh broke through the quiet and I could see Jamie turn slightly to eye me. “Are ye sure you arena a witch? It certainly feels as though you’ve placed me under some kind of spell at the moment.”

“I swear,” I reaffirmed, chuckling around the words, “I’m not a witch, or a fairy, or the Loch Ness monster.”

That got him laughing harder as he squeezed my hands tightly. His proximity was not lost on me, covering my side like a shadow. With his eyes gazing into mine, I would happily sink into the depths of the ocean blue before me. The light around us might be weak, but I believed with my whole heart that his glance dropped to my lips, that his pulse beat as quickly as mine as the tension rose.

The muffled sounds overhead broke our revere, words not discernible but the accent clear. It was an Englishman, stomping down the hall and speaking in an accusatory manner. The soldier stopped before the wooden panel, casting the room into darkness as he blocked out the weak light. It sounded like he was asking about the ventilated area. Holding my breath, I took comfort in Jamie’s presence beside me, in his work-worn hand gripping mine in reassurance.

We would be okay. He would keep me safe.

Though it felt like hours, it was only a minute or two before the Redcoat moved on, apparently satisfied with the answers and explanations he was given. I screwed my eyes closed tight and let out a ragged breath.

“Dinna fret, Sassenach. We’ll be out of this wretched room soon.”

“I know you wanted to be out there with your father, but I’m really glad you’re here with me, Jamie,” I admitted quietly, suddenly fascinated with the shoes on my feet. I was startled when I felt warm fingers on my chin, guiding my face to look up at his.

“You have kept my family safe. And for that, I swear to ye, we will see you safe.” The raw honesty in his voice was a strike to the ribs, making it hard to breathe normally. I wanted to say something – to thank him or tell him of my love for him – but the moment ended when the wooden panel overhead was removed. For a brief flash, Jamie laid his hand upon the handle of his dirk before recognizing the face of his brother-in-law, who promptly informed us that the Redcoats had moved on and it was safe to come out of our hiding place.

I moved mechanically, climbing up the small ladder with Jamie’s assistance and making my way down the hall. The sound of my steps on the stone floor thumped in time with my racing heart, a fearsome beat I had no chance of controlling. My desire to flee to the sanctuary of my room was snuffed out when I saw Brian, hand pressed to his forehead as blood trickled out of a head wound and through his fingers. I wasted no time hunting down a few clean cloths and ordering Mrs. Crook to boil one of them. Despite his grumbling and protests, I managed to get Brian seated in the parlour while I tended to the cut. A sigh of relief left me as I confirmed it to be a superficial injury. As I patched him up, I heard Jamie pacing back and forth behind me, ready to explode.

“Those bastards,” he gritted out, eyes never leaving his father. “I should have been there with you!”

“And what good would that have done, eh? Yer temper and stubborn pride would have made matters worse. We’ll no’ make ourselves a target for the Redcoats.”

“We’re Scots! We’re already their targets!” Jamie’s snarl rattled straight to my bones. Sadly, he was right. The British government hadn’t even passed the Act of Proscription yet. The worst was yet to come.

Without waiting for his father’s response, Jamie turned on his heel and stormed out the door. His heightened emotions lingering in the room coupled with the events of the morning caused a tremor in my hands as I worked to bandage Brian’s wound. Once the task was finished, I shared a look with him, my unspoken meaning clear: I would go talk to Jamie.

He didn’t necessarily belong down in the priest hole during times of potential conflict, but his hot-headed reactions could get him killed.

Something had to give.


	7. Chapter 7

Clouds were insistently rolling in, blocking out the sun and matching well with Jamie’s mood. I could see him gripping the paddock railing, head bowed and shoulders rising along with his ragged breaths.

I stopped 10 feet away, clutching my fingers before I spoke. “You realize that if you can’t keep your anger in check, you’re proving your father right. He’ll never allow you to be in the presence of the English army.”

At first, it didn’t seem like I would get a response. His shaky inhales and forced exhales filled the air between us for stretching moments. My sense of self-preservation was whispering at me, telling me to retreat to safety at once.

“Aye, I ken. I’m just…Christ!” His voice, starting off soft, rose in anger as his palm slapped the wooden beam. “How long does this go on? How long must we live under the thumb of those bastards?”

I sighed and closed the remaining distance between us, taking a place on his right side and gazing up at the ominous cloud cover.

“The Act that Parliament is going to enact soon will remain on the books for decades. Scotland will eventually become more of an integrated part of the Kingdom, and will not attempt another uprising. This level of intrusiveness will not last, since your father and grandfather did not support the Jacobite cause, but the Redcoats won’t leave you be for some time,” I answered plainly. There was so much more information, and so much more I did not know, but that was better saved for another time.

Jamie’s head turned my way quickly, brows drawn tight. “My grandsire? How do you know about him?”

“Oh,” I exclaimed, mind searching for the best answer that would not be considered a lie. “At the start of the Uprising, back in my time, I was at Beaufort Castle when your uncle Colum was making his argument to stay out of the fighting.”

I felt Jamie’s stare hot on me for endless beats of time before his eyes dropped, the acceptance of my story clear on his face. A large part of me wished to tell him I went to Beaufort Castle with him, another version of him, the version I called my husband. A slow inhale of breath calmed my unchained emotions and alerted me to the rain threatening to fall.

“I want to stand with my father when _they_ ride up to our front steps, but I dinna ken how I would stay calm if I saw anyone strike him,” he told me with a strained voice. Without much thought, I placed my hand over his on the wooden railing, wishing to soothe him with a simple touch, just as I did in the priest hole not even a few hours past.

“You would grit your teeth because you knew any outburst would put your family in danger. I know how much you love them, how far you’d go to protect them, and that’s how I know you’d never do anything to risk their safety. Even if it meant punching an innocent, unassuming piece of wood afterwards,” I informed him with a soft smile.

His eyes searched mine for the span of several heartbeats, the attention making my breath come faster. He used the hand I was holding to turn us until we were facing each other, separated by a meager half foot of space. I was frozen under the weight of his intense gaze.

“Even knowing what you are,” he started, swallowing before continuing, “it still takes me by surprise when I see how familiar you are. You know me, my family. And I swear it’s like I know you as well.”

I wanted to answer, to tell him everything about me, to confess the secrets I’d been holding on to so tightly. Every word died in my throat as he bent down, lips softly touching mine in a tender question. As soon as I responded, I felt one large, calloused palm cradling my cheek with a heartbreaking gentleness.

With a start, Jamie took a step back, disengaging from all contact. His eyes were panicked, his breathing laboured.

“I’m sorry, lass. I dinna ken what came over me. To be so bold and forward with ye….”

“Stop,” I interrupted, laying my hand lightly on his forearm. My cheeks were flushed from the brief kiss and sore from my futile attempts to contain my smile. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could hear my heart beating a rapid rhythm against my ribcage. So much time had passed since our last kiss. The contradiction between that frenzied, heart-shattering moment and this soft, tender one was staggering. A goodbye and a hello. So many days had been spent around him, getting closer to him, yet never close enough. The simple act of a undemanding, almost innocent kiss was enough to send a riot of emotions through me. Words failed me, so I merely leaned in, lifting my lips to meet his once more.

“Jamie!” Ian’s voice cut through the bubble Jamie and I created and we broke apart hastily. If I hadn’t been so annoyed by the intrusion, I would have enjoyed the fierce blush steadily creeping up the back of his neck and covering his ears.

“Aye, I’m coming,” Jamie grumbled, eyes noticeably not meeting mine. My hand, still wrapped around his muscled forearm, gave a reassuring squeeze. When his gaze finally lifted, I offered what I hoped was a calming smile. He released a shaky breath before replying with a grin of his own and a respectful bow. I watched as he turned, walking away in his reluctant retreat.

Memories flashed before my eyes as I replayed that reverent bend of his head and shoulders. Our wedding day. His ill-fated departure from Lallybroch. The soldier on his way to battle at Prestonpans. I fought for every breath as I worked to steady myself.

I had to tell Jamie. I had to explain everything I had kept hidden during my time here.

_Room for secrets, but not for lies._

With a secret this large, it could not be viewed as anything other than a lie. A sin of omission.

A sin I was ready to repent for.

 

\---

 

“Ach, lass, would ye give me some peace?” Brian grumbled out as I removed the bandage covering his wound and prepared to clean and re-dress it. “Tis merely a scratch.”

I shook my head with an almost-contained smile, noting the Fraser trait of stubbornness alive and well in Laird Broch Tuarach. I pretended not to notice his wince has I swiped the cut with an alcohol-dipped cloth.

“Waste of perfectly good whisky,” he muttered under his breath as he fought to school his features. I quickly finished the re-bandaging with a practiced hand before passing him a tumbler of the amber liquid – this time to be used as intended.

I sat with as much grace as I could, desperate to be off my feet after such an emotional day. It would have been easy to tilt my head back and find respite in the arms of sleep. “We’ll leave that on until it’s scabbed over, so don’t pick at it.”

“How was Jamie? The lad seemed rather intent on avoiding me today,” Brian noted, taking another sip from his glass.

“He’s a 25 year old man being treated like a child. He’s angry and frustrated and worried about his family.”

A familiar Scottish noise erupted from Brian’s throat as he shook his head. “Ye saw how quickly his temper came about when he saw what the Redcoats had done to me over something as small as a lack of meat to give them. I cannae risk it.”

“He was upset at being locked away while you were the one in danger. It isn’t that he would have started a brawl, he just wished it had been him being struck instead of you,” I reasoned passionately. Brian eyed me warily, perhaps wondering if Jamie had told me this or if I figured out his feelings on my own.

“And what if they only gave me a quick blow to the head because I’m an auld man? What if that was their idea of compassion, something not afforded to a young man such as my son? It wouldn’t be the first time someone saw his size as an unstated challenge and decided to have a go wi’ him.” He set his tumbler down with a little extra force, the mix of his fear and ire bubbling under the surface.

“Brian –“

“I will. Not. Lose. Him,” he cut me off with clear, concise words. “This family has mourned enough, as I’m sure ye ken well. Ellen, Willie, wee Rabbie, all taken too soon. Jamie’s name will not be added to that list. For all ye’ve done to keep him alive, I’m sure you agree.”

I took a moment to collect myself, his words hitting their mark. I knew loss as well. My mother and father, Uncle Lamb, Faith. For a brief moment in time, Jamie had been included as well. “I do agree. I also know you can’t keep a Fraser out of the skirmish for long. You tend to be a stubborn lot. Eventually, it will be his duty to represent Lallybroch against less-than-friendly forces. Who better to learn how to do it from than you?”

His eyes softened dramatically, his frustration ebbing away like water down a drain. He shook his head in wonderment as he sat back in his chair.

“I couldna have picked a more suitable lady for my son if I had been given a lump of clay and told to create her from that. Whip-smart and headstrong enough to walk beside him and to keep him in line.” I blushed at the praise, finding an interesting spot on the floor to focus my gaze on instead of meeting his eyes.

“Perhaps a little less English?” I joked in an attempt to regain my composure.

“Nah,” he replied with a smirk so familiar to the one I’d seen from Jamie countless times. “English or Scottish, it doesna change your heart or your mind. Are ye planning on telling him the whole of things soon?”

I sucked in a startled breath at his impromptu question. Surely I was running out of time to tell him about everything before he realized I was pregnant. Into my fourth month, there was only so much my corset and layers of clothing could hide. Even with the rationed food, I was showing. I had seen Jenny eyeing my midsection earlier with a knowing gaze. It would only be so long before Jamie noticed, too. While I didn’t know for sure the words I wanted to say, I did know it was a conversation I wanted to start on my own terms – not because news of my pregnancy got out and forced my hand.

“I’ll have to,” I responded quietly as my hand unconsciously moved to my belly. “All I can hope is that he’ll listen with an open mind.”

“He’s yers, Claire. His heart belongs to you, whether he kens it yet or not. Gather your words and give them to him gently. If he willna listen, box his ears until he hears your story. As someone told me recently, us Frasers are a stubborn lot.”

My spirits lifted from Brian’s pep talk. His unshakeable belief that everything would work out, that Jamie would accept what I had to say, gave me the confidence needed to have one of the most difficult conversations of my life.

Tomorrow, I promised myself as I bid Brian a good night and headed up the stairs to my room. Tomorrow I would gather my courage and explain my wild tale to Jamie, and I would keep telling him until he believed every word.

I fell into a deep, restful sleep with the feeling of hope residing in my chest.


End file.
